I think God has a finely tuned sense of humor. Or at least, he enjoys irony.
Yesterday, our landlord emailed us asking if we thought we’d be renewing our lease. We spent some time crafting a response to her, opening up a negotiation. We’d like our rent to go back to the original rate, the one we agreed to pay in 2007, and in return we’ll agree to extend our lease a few months so as to give her a little extra time with a guaranteed (good) tenant. Theoretically that also allows her a little more time to not have to try and rent the place in a dismal economy. As it is, the original rate is still high for the current market. It was probably average in 2007, but no more. But we like the place and are willing to pay a little more than we probably should, mostly just to avoid having to move. I hate moving.
Eight hours after replying to our landlord’s email–in which we repeatedly insisted that we do love the place and would love to stay if the conditions are right–around 4:00 this morning, we were awoken by a voice, booming over the emergency speaker system. It was the fire department, informing us that there was a fire in the elevator shaft–the one 20 feet from our door, no less–but that we were in no danger, and that we should stay in our homes. This message was repeated, in various permutations and sometimes unintelligibly, several more times over the next hour. And then our apartment started to smell like burning rubber.
I just love being woken up in the middle of the night before the work week starts; I particularly love it when it happens right after I’ve lost an hour of sleep thanks to Daylight Savings. I also love that my sweater today has a sort of chemical scent–that burning rubber smell really got into everything. And I really, really love it when I drag myself out of bed to get ready for work, only to discover that the fire department has turned off the hot water as a result of the fire. Yay!!
But we love living here, yes indeedy.
[Just in case anyone is still reading and was wondering, life is otherwise OK. I am still employed and am even relatively busy, for this economy. Mr. Angst is also still employed. Himself is also doing just fine. We constantly remind ourselves that we are very blessed and lucky to be in good shape right now.]
Malfunction 1: First train of the morning herked and jerked its way from one stop to the next. After being twelve minutes late.
Malfunction 2: Farmers’ market is TINY this morning, with four times as many flowers as edible vegetables or fruits.
Malfunction 3: The cart escalator at Target broke. While our cart was on it. So we had to ask the security people to stop trying to FIX the cart escalator and stop the people escalator so we could walk up it backwards and get our stuff so we could leave. Meanwhile, someone kept trying to run the cart escalator anyway, causing our cart to get wedged on top of the cart in front of it and go “Bang! Bang! Bang!” This was bad because we had two boxes of wine glasses in the cart. Thankfully, none were broken.
Malfunction 4: Not really a malfunction, just a pain–it started to rain while we were getting the Very Very Last Stuff out of our old apartment, with help from the Angst-in-laws.
Malfunction 5: No room in the car for me, so I took the train home from the old apartment and, you guessed it, there were train problems of the herky jerky kind again.
Thankfully, there have been no further malfunctions. The evening went well. The kitchen is fully unpacked, we have 8 new wineglasses (including some lovely new pinot goblets), and I made a delicious dinner for all four of us. Mmmmm.
So Work Club and Moving Club are keeping me SUPER BUSY, so super busy that I haven’t really been posting at all lately, and for that I apologize. The nutshell on my life is:
Tax is more interesting than I thought it would be.
Our new apartment is so much better than I even hoped it could be.
We still have a bunch of stuff at the old apartment that has to be dealt with this weekend.
Mr. Angst graduates this weekend and the Angst-in-laws will be here, so there’s a time management problem looming.
Journal stuff looms and looms and looms. And looms.
Um, yeah. That’s my life. That and trying to figure out where all of our books go, now that we’ve gotten rid of two of our bookshelves. (We haven’t actually gotten rid of them; if anyone in Our City needs bookshelves or a honey oak media shelf (or a baker’s rack or wire storage shelving for that matter), should Let Me Know.)
If one more person posts about The Sopranos without spoiler tags or warnings, I’m gonna get pissed. Because of Comcast’s ineptitude in EVERYTHING, we still do not have HBO at our new apartment and I still have not seen the finale. So SHUSH.
I think it finally hit me.
That is: the lack of sleep, the non-stop packing and editing and editing and packing, the general worry about whether I’m doing enough at my summer job, and the stupid, stupid weather.
I think I’ve been pretty tireless for the last two weeks–and that’s good, because I needed to be–but I think it’s finally caught up to me. I’m wiped. I’m wiped and I’m pissy and I’m brain dead. I reread the same two sentences twelve times this evening (while trying to make up for some lost hours at work), and I still couldn’t tell you what they said, or why they were important. At home, I find myself unable to concentrate on finishing one task–I keep getting distracted into doing something else. Everything seems sort of hazy.
I keep reminding myself that tomorrow is moving day and we’ll be done with all this soon, and that I’m taking a little vacation this weekend (albeit work-related). And that when I get back on Sunday things will look better, clearer, brighter. But right now, I just want to hide my head in the sand and sleep.
Apparently I don’t sleep any more. I go to bed late and I get up early. I wake up hours, or at least significant portions of an hour, before my alarm goes off. I can’t go back to sleep, even when I try thinking about the really cool dream I was having (and that almost always works).
I’m hoping this extended stretch of psuedo-insomnia (insomnia for me, who is accustomed to sleeping 8 hours at LEAST) is only related to the journal duties I’ve essentially finished (for the time) and the move. I’m hoping I’ll sleep like a baby on Tuesday night. I’m hoping this lack of sleep isn’t affecting me in other ways.
In any case, the apartment is very nearly completely packed up–we have all the most important stuff in boxes. All of the food is still in its usual place, but I’m less worried about my spices and nonperishables (and the scant collection of stuff in the fridge) than I am about things like the cover and pillows on the futon and bed (must be packed up by 8 am tomorrow) as well as the ulcer I’m pretty sure Himself is developing. Lucky for him, he gets to go to the vet today and play with his friends. When he comes home, he’ll be coming home to a new place. I hope it’s as much a relief for him as it will be for me.